


A Politician, A Lecturer and a Seaman Walk Into A Bar

by khazadspoon



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/M, Happy AU, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Terrible chef long john silver strikes again, everyone is alive and everyone is happy, flinthamiltons ot3, mmf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9503081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khazadspoon/pseuds/khazadspoon
Summary: James is finally free from Naval service. At his friend's insistence he is reintroduced to London where he meets two people who will make him feel almost normal again.He didn't expect to fall in love. And he definitely didn't expect to find that love with a married couple.- a modern and happy au where James, Thomas, and Miranda get the happy ending they deserve -





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired of thinking about sad au's and five where Flint pines and is destroyed by losing Thomas and Miranda so I came up with this. Rating will no doubt go up as I get the characters into more and more nude and explicit events. But it's only an introductory chapter so far. 
> 
> Have fun! Comments are always appreciated.

Throwing his bag on the floor, James breathed out a sigh of relief. His time with the Navy was finished. Now all he had to do was relax and reacclimatise himself with solid ground and life in London. It had been months since he had last slept in his own bed, years since he had spent more than a few weeks at a time in the small flat he called "home".

With a groan and a flourish he threw himself on the bed, large and ridiculously soft, and fell asleep in moments.

He woke to his phone ringing. It split through the quiet darkness that had fallen, evening once again spilling over London like a blanket. He groped for it blindly and pressed the answer button

"What," he answered, sleep still clinging to his voice and making it a growl.

"I'm going to a party, thought you might need a drink!" Hal Gates, a dependable and good man, was one of the few people James considered to be friends. "Come on; you need a night out. Billy said you'd had a rough trip back."

James winced. "Billy talks too much."

"Regardless, you're meeting me for a drink. There's a few people you should meet before you're let loose on London for real in the morning."

And so it was that James found himself putting on clean clothes, a pair of dark jeans and an old shirt a little too long in the arms. They were the only items of clothing he had that weren't tainted by salt and sweat. His jacket, however, would have to stay as it was. James brushed his hair, pulling the copper strands back into a short ponytail, and checked the state of his face. Stubble, a scar on his cheek, but none too worse for wear. Gates wouldn't scold him for a being a _little_ unkempt.

They met at a bar crowded with all kinds of people; some in sequinned gowns, others in tuxedos, some in jeans like himself and then a few in strange "high fashion" clothes. James had no idea what high fashion was but he knew it wasn't his style.

Gates clasped his hand and drew him into a hug when they met. The man tugged at his shirtsleeves and mumbled something to himself before giving James a big smile.

"Good to see you, lad."

James smirked at him and returned the handshake offered. "You too, Hal. How long has it been?"

"Too long yet not long enough!"

They fell into a comfortable conversation after that, drifting from topic to topic as old friends often do.Gates had been one of the few men to understand Jame's particular brand of brooding silence. He had managed to put up with James for over a decade, and with only minimal complaining. James loved him like a father, in a way, as he had Admiral Hennessey before his death. 

After a while and a few drinks (wine, a couple of whiskeys and a large glass of bright golden beer for Gates) they were joined. Billy, a young but hulking man who could one day be a ship's captain and more, passed a drink to James and tipped his head.

"Been a while," he said, not too warmly. They hadn't been _friends_ , exactly, not when they had served together. But to have the young man speak to him, let alone buy him a drink, was a step in the right direction. 

James held out his hand. "It's good to see you, Billy."

He meant it. Billy was a good man, he stood by his principles and questioned the things that would go against those principles. James respected that more than Billy knew. One day he'd have to tell Billy that. 

They shook hands and Gates nodded approvingly. He was no doubt glad to see his two friends being civil to one another for once. He looked even more pleased as James and Billy had an amicable conversation about the young man's recent promotion. Billy was climbing the naval ladder one rung at a time, gaining recognition and respect as he went. Gates was obviously proud, he had always considered Billy a son. 

Billy turned to Gates and jerked his head to the bar. "They're here by the way, the politician and her husband."

"Bloody good timing. I thought hell was going to freeze over with you two actually getting along for once. James, come with me a moment, there's a couple of people I want you to meet."

Moments later James found himself being dragged to the bar, his shoulders pushed towards a woman in a beautiful green dress that shimmered in the light. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, the bar's lights making it seem almost liquid. She was, in a word, stunning. High cheekbones and full lips, a long straight nose and delicate chin. James found himself staring slightly and tried not to flush. A pretty face was not a weakness of his but this woman was something else.

"Ah! Mr Gates, it's a pleasure to see you again," she said with a quirk of her lips and James was taken aback by the deep brown of her eyes and the power in her voice. 

Gates nodded to James then, drawing her attention to him. "This is the man I told you about, James McGraw. He's just got back from sea. James, this is Miranda Hamilton, the sharpest woman I've ever met."

Miranda held her hand out, as he shook it he marveled at the surety and power behind that simple act.

James didn't believe in love at first sight. He hadn't believed in love at all for a number of years. Failed attempts at relationships and normality had all but destroyed his view of romance. But he was sure he felt something quite new, something _bright_ , when Miranda Hamilton passed judgement on him with just a quick glance over his face.

"Ma'am," James murmured, unsure as to what to say.

She laughed, her head tilting back and James was shocked to find himself laughing, too.

"Oh I like this one, Hal, he's polite;" she held his gaze and let his hand go with a lingering touch of her fingers.

"Who's polite?" Another voice said, low and masculine, from just behind James.

Miranda immediately moved to the man, leaning against him and kissing his cheek. "Thomas, this is James McGraw; he's the man Mr. Gates told us about."

James looked at the man, Thomas, and felt another jarring shift of emotion.

Tall, elegant, dressed in what had to be a very expensive three piece suit, and looking at James with piercing blue eyes was the prettiest man he had ever seen. He looked soft and warm, welcoming to the touch and James was taken by surprise at how quickly he wanted to know everything about Thomas.

Miranda wrapped their arms together, leaning into the blond's space and curling her plush lips up at one corner. Thomas looked James up and down, his gaze just as sharp and  _knowing_ as Miranda's. It was as if he was naked. 

"Ah, you're him?" A hand touched his shoulder and James started, flicking his eyes up to Thomas' before nodding. "Well, my wife and I are both very excited to meet you. Would you like a drink?"

James shook his head and felt the man's hand slip from his shoulder, his eyes drawn to the shining gold wedding band on Thomas' finger. Politely he declined the offer. "I'm all set for now. But thank you."

Usually James was quick witted. He could charm a man from his chosen argument, could make you wish you had never met him, could convince you to follow his lead with just a few well chosen words. That had been one of the skills which had gained him his rank in the Navy, at least. But he seemed to have forgotten how language worked. All he could do was smile crookedly and gaze at the two beautiful creatures before him. He realised it was attraction that was making his stomach twist and his mind fall short, but it seemed futile to accept such feelings where a married couple was involved. Even if they  _did_ look at him more than they did any other person in the room. 

They couldn't stay long. Miranda had a long day at parliament discussing legislation and other political things, Thomas was teaching all day. James wanted to know more, wanted to ask a million questions about them but found he couldn't. 

Thomas shook his hand, smiling at him with brilliant and startling familiarity, and said goodnight. Miranda kissed his cheek, her perfume lingering on his skin long after he'd fallen into bed that night.

Gates threw him a knowing glance as the couple left. "You've got that face again," he mumbled into James' ear. 

"What face?" He wasn't aware he had more than one.

"The one that says you're going to get into trouble chasing something.  _Again._ "

Of course, Gates was right. He was rarely wrong when it came to James and his tendency to walk into trouble. Hennessey had called him reckless more than once. Perhaps it was inevitable that something as tempting as the Hamiltons would draw him in?

That night he didn't dream. He didn't even wake up at the unfamiliar feeling of not swaying in a ship. He simply slept and woke with a headache, the memory of Miranda's lips on his cheek and Thomas' hand lingering on his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More happy fic! My heart was broken after the season 4 opening episode so have some Miranda and James flirting and a guest appearance by Silver.

"You know, this is the first time I've ever seen you in a good mood. It's a little scary if I'm honest!" John wiped his hands on a dishcloth, shifting his weight onto his good leg, and passed another breadstick across the table. "Care to share?"

James flicked an eye to him and pursed his lips. "Have I ever struck you as the sharing type?"

John shrugged, a motion that never failed to convey just how little he cared about answering a question. James suspected he cared a lot more than that patented shrug let on. 

They had met a few years ago during, of all things, a bar fight. John Silver had been trying to pick up someone's girlfriend in front of said girlfriend's partner. James had intervened when he saw the glint of a knife. He had restrained the man and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would lose a fight with James and end up in hospital if he was lucky.

Silver had bought him a drink and flirted incorrigibly as a thank you. He hadn't been perturbed when James had barked at him to stop and give him his damned drink already.

That was how James made his second friend. And, possibly, the closest friend he had ever had. Even if John irritated him and stepped on his toes (literally and figuratively) more times than he could count, James was grateful for his existence. John had been a loyal friend and he couldn't imagine life without the man. It had been James who had taken him to hospital when he lost his leg, and it had been James who helped him through physiotherapy.

It was possible that James would be best man at his wedding, if he ever got round to actually asking Madi that one big question.

"You're not as hard shelled as you think you are," John sighed. "We know each other well enough that I can tell you this without you punching me; you're a softy and something has made you like this today. So, _what is it?_ "

"You're not letting this go, are you?"

John shook his head and grinned, some of his dark curls falling in his face. James fought back the urge to frown and nibbled on the end of the breadstick. It was one of the few things John was able to cook properly. John had given them food poisoning twice, and barely managed to not do it a third time with his failed attempt at a hog roast with not enough heat. 

"I... I may have met someone."

John dropped his breadstick, a comically surprised expression on his face. "You mean... a _living_ person? Not a fictional character in a dusty old book?"

"Yes, John, a real person. I do know real people," he flicked at a crumb on the table, managing to get it to stick to Silver's shirt. "Though technically there are two of them..."

A bark of laughter, the sound of John's prosthetic hitting the underside of the table, and James felt a blush rising on his cheeks.

"You go half a decade without noticing anyone, then get two at once! What the hell happened? Did you meet twins?"

James quirked his lips, glad to have John laughing so freely around him, and flicked another crumb. Two specks of white clung to John's dark shirt. "Gates introduced us. She's in politics, he's a teacher. I can't remember of what, but... I don't know."

"You don't know."

"No."

John made a snorting sound and leaned back. "Alright... Do you have a number? A name? Anything a man could use to find out more about these special people?"

"I'm not an idiot, John. They're the Hamiltons, living here in London."

John frowned for a moment, considering the name. He picked out his phone, flicking through the various screens, and made a pleased sound. "It wouldn't happen to be Thomas Hamilton, would it? Teaches at UCL?" James nodded, his interest piqued. "Yep, he teaches my night class. Classical literature, very foppish."

It sounded right. James thought about the soft blond hair, the way it had tickled at Thomas' ears and draped ever so slightly over his forehead. He could see the man as a teacher, a group of students gazing at him fondly as he talked... Foppish, indeed.

"Do you want his number?"

James started, pictures of Thomas at a desk with a pencil between his lips floating away at the question.

"What? No I don't want his number, he's married!"

The idea was... it was preposterous. And even if he weren't married, it would be ridiculous. James was a callous, cynical man. Why would someone like Thomas want him? And anyway, James and romance didn't mix. 

"From what I hear it doesn't matter. You know there are such things as open marriages, right? The Navy didn't make you forget that?" John pushed his phone across the table. "I've got his wife's too. She's pretty hard to ignore."

James stared at the offered numbers, his mind spinning. Couldn't he at least be friends with them? Wasn't that a possibility? People his age did have married friends, people his age could control their crushes and just be friends. And it had been a long time since he had  _wanted_ to get to know someone...

He put the numbers in his phone; Miranda's first, Thomas' second.

It felt so... normal. He had two extra contacts to the real world.

-

John left for work not long after, patting James on the shoulder in shared camaraderie, and told him to at least try texting.

It was a little terrifying to consider. Would he be ignored? What would he do if either of them replied? Just the idea of their approval made his heart beat a little faster. _Ridiculou_ _s,_ he thought. Then he spent an hour looking at his phone and then distracting himself with books or tv to calm himself down. Was this how friendship was done these days? Was there so much nervousness and anticipation involved? Or was that just because he was hung up on how attractive they both were?  _Fucking ridiculous_.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

James picked up his phone and dialed. He wanted to actually talk to someone, not just blurt out a message into the ether as younger people seemed to do.

"Miranda Hamilton speaking;" her smooth voice was only slightly distorted by the line. He felt himself smile immediately.

"Hello, its- its James, James McGraw from the other night? A friend gave me your number, is this a bad time?" He was shaking. Why was he shaking? He gripped the phone a little tighter and mentally steeled himself.  _You're a grown man, just **talk** to the woman._

Miranda gasped lightly on the other end, a small laugh followed that made James' stomach warm. "Yes! Yes it's fine, great in fact! I was hoping to hear from you," she said, the sound of a door closing behind her. "What can I do for you?"

James decided, in that moment, to throw caution to the wind and accept something good for once. "I was wondering if you'd like to get a coffee. Maybe lunch."

"Oh," she hesitated. James felt his palms sweat. History was about to repeat itself- "That would be wonderful. Are you free this afternoon?"

James' pulse leapt. "Yes! Yes I am."

She said she would meet him at the cafe near her building, in just two hours. They said goodbye and James put the phone down.

He proceeded to panic and wonder what the hell he was doing.

In what had to be a record time, James changed his raggedy shirt for something a little less hole-ridden, checked himself for any stains or irregularities, and took deep breaths. It wasn't a date, he was just seeing someone to gain a friend. She just happened to be rather beautiful... And Gates had introduced them for a reason hadn't he? Not that he had actually explained that reason. Probably just hoping to find James a friend who could keep an eye on him with Hal was away.

Miranda was waiting for him when he arrived, clearly just having come from work. She was dressed in a dark blue suit that clung to her curves. "James," she said softly, taking his hand and kissing his cheek. He smiled at her gratefully, thankful for the warm welcome. Miranda returned his smile and drew him to sit with her, moving her chair closer. "I assume it was one of Thomas' friends who gave you my number? He would have told me if you'd been in touch."

"Yes, John Silver. Do you know him?"

She smiled knowingly and leaned on her elbow, chin in her hand. "Ah yes. The chatty one from night class. Small world, isn't it?"

James agreed. He had forgotten seemingly overnight how disarming Miranda was. Her general countenance exuded power and charm; James was certain that he would do anything she wanted without question.

They talked a little, explaining how they new Hal Gates and what they did. Miranda was in politics; she worked mainly in the House of Commons, sometimes collaborating with the Mayor of London and different offices in the area. The conversation drifted to more personal issues and James tried not to display his interest too openly.

"Are you in a relationship, James?" She said his name quietly, finger on the rim of her glass. He shook his head.

"No. No I- I haven't had time recently, what with being at sea but... I'm hopeful. How did you and Thomas meet?" He steered the conversation towards her, eager not to overstep. John might have understood modern dating to an extent but James was not willing to trip up now. "Have you been married long?"

Miranda seemed to soften when he mentioned her husband. A soft, almost secretive smile graced her lips. "We've been married for ten years now. We met at university; both studying politics, though he didn't want to get into it as a career. He stumbled into me, dropping our things everywhere and... well, the rest is history. We dated, moved in together, and got married at Gretna Green only two years later."

James tried to imagine the two of them ten years younger, meeting accidentally and being together since. It wasn't hard. Even having known them for less than a day he knew they were devoted to one another. Thomas had stayed close to his wife the night before, gazing at her adoringly as she spoke, and Miranda was similar with her husband. They were made for each other and anyone could see it. A flash of jealously went through James' core; he wanted that. He wanted that security of affection, unconditional and deep, from someone. Sometimes it seemed almost impossible.

But here was proof that it existed. Proof before his very eyes.

"He asked about you," Miranda said suddenly, leaning forward in her seat. "He wondered if you were one of my past conquests come back to haunt me." Her grin was infectious. James couldn't help but grin back, laughing lightly but not understanding why. "I dare say he was rather taken with you; you're a navy man, yes?"

James straightened his back, a spike of excitement forming at her words. Thomas was  _taken_ with him? "Ex navy, actually;" he corrected her softly, putting effort into relaxing his posture. 

As she studied him, her eyes roaming over his face and shoulders, he felt naked. She was _appraising_ him, as though deciding if he was worth more of her attention. James had to wonder; did she have a history of affairs? Did Thomas know about them? He couldn't exactly just blurt out 'are you having an affair' to a woman he barely knew!

"You hold yourself like a military man... how long did you serve?" She asked, taking a long sip from her glass.

"About fifteen years, I joined as soon as they'd take me;" he had been young and without family, growing up in Padstow with no plans for university or a profession. It had done its job; he was made into a man out at sea.

Miranda bit her lip, James tried to keep his gaze away and failed.

"I bet you looked rather dashing in uniform..." she leaned closer, her foot touching his under the table. James started slightly and swallowed, his lips and throat dry. He was shocked by how much he wanted her attention; how would her hands feel on his skin? Or her lips, were they as soft as they looked? His mind started to swim.

At his core, James was a selfish man. He would greedily take what was offered to him with little regard to what anyone else wanted. It had, at times, gotten him into trouble.

But he tried to better himself. He tried not to take what wasn't his even if-

"I've gone too fast, I'm sorry..." Miranda drew herself back, her foot no longer touching his calf. "I forget sometimes that not everyone is like Thomas and I."

James came back to himself, calf cold where she had stopped touching him. "Not like you..?"

She tilted her head, a single curl falling almost artfully over her cheek. "We have an... understanding. If one of us finds someone interesting, we talk, and we... well. We find ourselves distracted sometimes."

"You mean-"

"We have an open marriage, yes. And right now I find you very interesting Mr. McGraw."

Miranda held his gaze and it was like fire had been poured down his throat. He reached over, taking her hand in his, and watched as she smiled.

"You're... rather interesting yourself," he replied with a tilt of his head. To hell with propriety. He  _wanted_ Miranda, his heart racing and heat pouring into his limbs as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. 

They talked a little more, Miranda commenting on the finer things about living in London and recommending plays or places for James to visit. James found himself wanting to go, if only just to please her. She didn't mention her attraction to him again, simply let him touch her hand, her own fingers tracing the cuff of his sleeve almost teasingly. James felt more relaxed than he had in a decade.

But, as with all good things, it had to come to an end.

"You should call again soon," Miranda said, leaning to kiss his cheek and lingering. She smelled sweet, her perfume made his nose tickle. She squeezed his hand and glanced at his lips, leaning in to press hers against his briefly. "Soon."

"I will."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we have the chapter unofficially titled "the author can't stop thinking about thomas hamilton and so wrote too much about him"

It was a week before James had any interaction with the outside world beyond answering the door for food deliveries. He stayed inside, indulging in reality and daytime TV, fast food and half of the books on his shelf. He didn't care in the slightest that the world outside still existed. After so long immersed in the world's political and military turmoil it was a relief to sit back and do  _nothing_. 

His phone stayed blessedly silent. Miranda didn't call, didn't text, and James felt slightly disappointed. But, she was a busy woman. It was entirely possible that he wouldn't hear from her again, as much as he wanted to. 

On the Friday it was John who broke his self imposed solitude. He pushed his way into James' flat, nudging James out of the way with his crutch and taking possession of the most comfortable of James' chairs. 

"I've got night class in an hour, you're coming with me," he announced it as though it had already been discussed. No room for argument, not when John Silver had made up his mind. They were as stubborn as each other in that regard. James shook his head in exasperation. 

"I am, am I?"

John nodded solemnly. "You've been in here all week, James.  _Get out_. Get some fresh air and escort me, in my weakened state, to my class. Hell, you might even learn something!"

"Weakened state, he says!" James snorted, kicking his friend's foot as he went to collect his coat. No use arguing, really, and it wasn't as though John was  _wrong_ exactly. "You're stronger now than when I first met you..." Even if he  _was_ a little shit, John was still his best friend. As such he had an uncanny ability to know exactly how to bring James out of his shell. 

It could be really annoying at times. 

A wicked smile formed on John's lips a moment later. James did  _not_ like that smile. It usually meant something embarrassing and potentially police-involving was about to happen. 

"I think you'll enjoy this particular class."

\- - - 

It was half an hour later as they walked into the college's lecture hall that James realised why his friend was so eager to get him there. The  _teacher_. 

"You little  _shit_ ," James hissed, his stomach tightening in anticipation. Thomas would be there. Thomas might  _recognise_ him. He might want to talk about something and James had no idea if the man knew about Miranda's pseudo date with him or- 

"Stop thinking! Just... go in, sit down with me, and try not to stare at him too much. I know you fancy him but try to be cool;" John thumped his shoulder and pushed him through the door. "He doesn't bite. Not that I know of at least."

James groaned. "You do this on purpose don't you? Just to spite me," he groused, following John to the long rows of seats. 

"You wound me! I do it  _in_ spite of you, not  _to_ spite you. I'm trying to help, James!" John sat at the front of the room, finding the center isle and sitting next to it, forcing James to sit next to him and  _right in front of the podium_. "Now sit down, shut up, and be happy I didn't just take you to his office and shut the door."

He was about to turn and give John a piece of his mind when the door opened. James looked up immediate, eyes catching the tall figure that strode into the room. 

Thomas moved around the front of the lecture hall as if it was his home. Confident, comfortable, one hand patting the wooden podium as if it were an old family pet. He was twice as handsome as James remembered; soft blue eyes, dirty blond hair carefully parted to the side, plush lips curved up in a gentle smile. The only difference was the scruffy mustard jumper and scuffed brown shoes. He looked so... ordinary. As though James could walk right up to him and just start talking. 

He put a briefcase on the desk, an old and well used black thing that desperately needed replacing, and took out a book. 

"Fiction has been used for centuries to give life to political ideas. Our world view is created and  _shaped_ by fiction. I hope today to show you a little of how this is done;" he looked into the audience with a small smile as his words settled over the attendees. His voice was smooth and deep, as likely to enrapture students as relax them into a daze depending on how much caffeine they'd ingested. 

When Thomas' eyes locked onto James, they widened. His smile broadened ever so slightly and James felt himself smile back. He  _did_ recognise him. And, it seemed, was happy to see him. 

Thomas turned back to the podium with a shake of his head. "I hope you've done the reading, those of you who expect to gain a qualification out of attending this course," he continued, moving back to his spot at the center of the large board covering the back wall. "And I'm well aware that most of you have studied  _1984_ in school but you'll see why I'm revisiting it soon enough."

The next hour was, if James was  _completely_ honest with himself, rather boring. He enjoyed books, read them avidly in fact, but preferred to read at his own pace and with only entertainment in mind. John was clearly enjoying himself and was alternating between furiously writing notes and raising his hand to give his own opinions. But, even though it wasn't James' chosen subject, he couldn't help but hang on every word coming from Thomas' mouth. He wanted to drink in every syllable, to know Thomas' mind as well as his own. 

He tried not to stare, as John suggested, but found it hard. Just as Miranda was commanding in her own right, so was Thomas. Simply the way he held himself was beautiful; straight back and shoulders, hands clasped lightly at his lower back, head tilted back ever so slightly to reveal the long column of his neck. His eyes roamed over the faces of his audience without once lingering too long. There was a natural ability to create a rapport in that gaze. Each time he looked at James, James felt his heart flutter. And Thomas  _did_ look at James, quite a lot. His attention kept flitting back to him as if to check he was still there after each moment passed. Thomas seemed to be smiling for half the bloody evening. 

John poked him. "I'm a great friend, aren't I;" it wasn't a question. James pinched his leg. 

After the hour had passed and students began to filter out of the hall James' palms began to sweat. There was no distraction now. At any moment Thomas could come over and talk to them. To  _him_. 

John poked him again and jerked his head to the left. 

"Mr. McGraw, isn't it?" Thomas stepped forward, his hand out in front of him. 

"James;" he took Thomas' hand and shook it firmly, feeling the heat of his skin and praying his hands weren't disgustingly moist. "Please, just James."

Thomas smiled warmly. "James," he said almost under his breath. "It's good to see you again."

They stood for a moment, hands clasped, just looking at one another until John cleared his throat. "Wonderful lecture, Mr. Hamilton. Small world, isn't it? I just so happen to know someone you know."

"Yes, small world," Thomas repeated, letting go of James' hand and seeming to collect himself. "Small but not disagreeably so. Thank you for you contributions, John, the rest of the class and I always appreciate your input."

John preened and waved off the praise as if it were nothing. "My pleasure. But I need to go turn a bicycle, as they say. I'll meet you outside, James."

He walked out, tossing James a wink, and left the two men in silence. 

James looked back at Thomas and straightened his back, his posture falling back into it's less relaxed at-ease form. Subconsciously, or maybe just  _consciously_ , he wanted to be impressive for this man. He wanted to be his best and for Thomas to  _know_ that. 

"I-"

"I'm-"

They laughed awkwardly and James signaled for Thomas to continue. 

"I'm glad you're here. I'd hoped to meet you again, though I imagined something a little less... well,  _this_ ;" he gestured to the now empty theatre with a wave of his hand. 

"If it helps, it wasn't my idea," James smiled crookedly and risked a step closer. He flushed as Thomas did the same. 

"Miranda told me you'd had lunch with her. She was rather excited when I got home," Thomas licked his lips, "she likes you."

James nodded, flicking his gaze to Thomas' mouth. "I like her, too. You're a lucky man."

A broad grin stretched across his face. "I am... We, Miranda and I, would- we would like to invite you to dinner. Would you like to come? It would be nice to get to know you more, for you to know _us_ more."

James nodded. Thomas ducked his head, failing to hide the flush on his pale cheeks. "I'd like that," James said under his breath. 

A brush of fingers against his hand startled him, his fingers twitching at the feeling. He sucked in a breath and looked down. Their hands were touching. 

"I should find my friend..." He breathed into the suddenly small distance between them. Had he moved, or had Thomas? Did it matter?

"Yes, I- I suppose you should," Thomas grinned at him again and James found himself grinning back. "I'll let Miranda give you our address."

They looked at each other again, slowly moving away form one another, and James felt his excitement start to bubble in his chest as he shut the door behind him. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok we have a POV change to Miranda because I enjoy her so much and I wanted to give more of an insight into her marriage with Thomas in the fic's context. So yeah here we have another chapter.

Miranda was at her heart a practical woman. She enjoyed her work in the House Of Commons, enjoyed the verbal sparring with her colleagues and the sensation of  _doing_ something with her life. When she had married Thomas he had set his own career aside to help her study and progress in hers. He cooked and tidied when she was late home, drew her baths and went over documents until dawn when she asked him to. He knew her better than anyone but herself, and Miranda was happy to say she knew  _him_ better than anyone else. 

So, when Thomas came home from his night class and simply put his briefcase down in the hall without a word, she knew something was wrong. He was pensive and quiet, an unusual combination for the man who would happily talk at length about anything and everything that took his fancy. Clearly something had happened. 

She cornered him after he had showered, water still clinging to his chest and back, his hair dark and damp against his forehead. "Thomas, what is it? You're not yourself tonight," she touched his arm, drawing him close, and wiped a droplet of water from his cheek. "Something has happened."

"No, nothing has happened, I just-" he looked down, eyes flitting between her hand on his shoulder and the small space between their bodies. He took her hand from his shoulder and clasped their fingers together. "He was at my lecture this evening."

"Who?" Miranda asked, thoughts flying to Thomas' cruel father with barely a second's hesitation. "Your father?"

Thomas laughed, some of the tension in his form dropping. "No! Good grief, no. James."

His lips curled into a smile as he said the name of their latest intrigue. She recognised that smile; it had shined back at her from across the table at their first dinner together, and again after they had first slept together. It was a smile she knew very well. 

"He was waiting for a friend, had attended with a friend, and we... we spoke, but only briefly;" Thomas licked his lips and squeezed her hand. "He enjoyed your lunch together. He likes you."

Miranda saw a complex shift in her husband's face at the words. Thomas was not, by nature, a jealous man. He was insatiably curious and tenacious when he had an idea, but not jealous of others for theirs. So to see even a hint of that emotion was troubling. Between the two of them they had enjoyed a good number of lovers besides each other, and never had they been bitter or upset about it. Miranda had her lovers and Thomas had had his, though fewer in numbers. Thomas had said from the beginning that her happiness was priority, and he often asked about who she had seen or spent the night with. He even enjoyed the stories and sometimes helped to reenact the events. 

There was something else to this, something Thomas wouldn't share or hadn't figured out. 

"Thomas?" She squeezed his fingers. "What is it?"

He hesitated, lips parted, and drew in a deep breath. "I think I like him, more than I had anticipated."

_Oh._

They had only slept with the same person once before. It had gone well but had only happened the once. It was, in some ways, new territory. They hadn't discussed how they would act in this particular situation before. When Miranda had come home from her lunch with James, she had been excited and could barely contain it. Thomas had listened with rapt attention as she described James' reaction to her flirting, how he had been concerned for her marriage. It occurred to her now that, perhaps, she had been insensitive. If Thomas felt attraction to someone it was important. She felt awful to think she had flaunted her own attraction in his face. 

"If you want me to-"

"No, I know what you're thinking but I want you to be happy. You clearly like him, and he likes you. Why would I oppose that?" He kissed her, firmly and with the same passion he put into everything he loved. "Besides, he doesn't  _dislike_ me, I almost thought he wanted to kiss me in fact..."

Miranda smiled and held her husband close. Images of the two men kissing, holding each other, holding  _her_ , began to fill her mind. 

It would be nice, she thought, to share that with them. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back to James' point of view for a while. The rating is set to go up soon so keep that in mind!

After just over a week back on solid ground James thought he would be settled. He thought that the hustle and bustle of London would take his mind off of the life he had left behind. He was no longer an officer in Her Majesty's Navy, he didn't have a ship to report to or men to command. 

It was a little like being lost. James tried to find his footing by walking in London's parks, visiting galleries and going to see films. He even took himself out to dinner to try and reconnect with the world. But, after a while, he still felt that stinging loneliness that always haunted him after a tour at sea had finished. Only this time there was no next trip to think about. He had, for all intents and purposes, become a civilian. And what did civilians do? They worked, they loved, they entertained themselves. 

James decided to look for a job. He needed something to take up time and give him something other than  _what now_ to think about. His maths was excellent, his planning and logical thinking exemplar, he knew maps as though they were a second language. The world was his oyster. John half mockingly suggested he go into teaching children geography. James had sent him a withering glare for that. 

On the fifteenth day back on land, he found a welcome distraction. Miranda invited him to visit an exhibition with her. 

"Thomas is working this weekend, who better to keep me company than you?" She had said over the phone, her voice soft and warm in his ear. 

He had buttoned his coat and made his way to the British Museum in record time. 

Miranda was waiting for him by the front gates, dressed in a simple pair of jeans and her own great coat. Her hair was up, a sparkling pin keeping it in place. James kept glancing at the tempting skin of her neck and jaw, pale in the early Spring light, as she walked up the steps to the building just in front of him. His breath caught when she took his arm, bringing their bodies close together as they walked through the doors. 

She looked up at him, deep brown eyes gazing into his as her mouth turned up in a smile. "How have you been this last week, James?" She asked. James flicked his eyes to her, then to the room in front of them, and back again. 

"Bored, if I'm honest. Not a lot to do for an ex officer these days," he responded with a brief smile. James leaned closer as they walked through the first room to the left, large statues and monolithic gates from the ancient world only just drawing his attention. Miranda was warm against his side, their steps slow and in tandem. "Though I've had a few things on my mind..."

"Oh?" Miranda squeezed his arm. "What sort of things?"

"I'm going to look for a steady job, something simple I can do in the week."

It wasn't a brilliant conversation. He told her about his past experience of work being purely military, she responded with suggestions of college or university to widen his educational background. They discussed, briefly, the beautiful ancient artifacts around them and made their way through to the marbles of Ancient Greece and Rome. 

Pausing before one of the statues, Miranda turned them to face one another. "I've been meaning to ask you to dinner," she murmured, pressing close to allow others to pass. James put an arm around her, the action seeming so easy and  _natural_ even though nothing had been discussed. "If you'd like, it could be just you and I, or maybe not?" 

James wondered for a moment; dinner alone with Miranda would be wonderful, he knew that, but his mind was drawn to Thomas as well. He had never been in a situation like this before. 

Miranda touched his cheek, her finger warm, and brought him back to the moment. "Don't answer immediately. Let's enjoy our day, hm?"

He smiled at her gratefully, giving in to the urge to lean down and kiss her cheek. 

She turned at the last second, her lips catching his, and James' breath caught in his throat. Her mouth moves slowly against his, her body tucked against his chest and curving delightfully towards him. He pressed her closer with one arm, the other lifting to touch the back of her neck, tilting his head and welcoming her tongue into his mouth. Her kiss was warm and slow, hinting at more but never promising, and James was in awe of it. Lust and affection rolled through his body, warming him from head to toe. 

After moments she drew back, eyes twinkling. "Let's carry on, shall we?"

They walked through the main rooms arm in arm, chatting about anything and everything. James drew her into short kisses every so often and reveled in the feel of her lips against his. He laughed as she pressed her hands under his coat in an attempt to warm her hands, her fingers cold through the thin material of his shirt. Miranda laughed with him, the world floating away as they simply enjoyed one another's company. 

But time moved forward and the sun began to set. They decided that leaving was the best plan, having seen all they wanted to see. 

"My flat isn't too far away," James offered, hesitant but hopeful. 

Miranda grinned. "Are you attempting to get me alone, Mr. McGraw?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yes," she kissed his cheek, her breath hot on his skin. "But that's what I find attractive about you."

James showed her to his flat, the Tube its usual cramped and humid self giving them an excuse to stand body to body with their arms around one another. No one looked at them, giving James the courage to lean down and kiss the tempting curve of Miranda's jaw. She shivered against him. 

The walk from the Tube was thankfully short, the single flight of stairs to James' flat even shorter. James opened the door and let Miranda in to his home. 

Miranda took her coat off and placed it over her arm. She looked around, seeming to take in everything at once and  _know_ what kind of person James was from that brief glance. Then, with single minded determination, she strode towards him and kissed him hard. Her coat fell to the floor as she tugged at his buttons, stripping the heavy coat from his shoulders and reaching to grasp at his shoulders. James moaned into her mouth, hands pushing his coat to the floor and kicking it aside. He'd worry about boot marks later. Right then there was only Miranda and how  _warm_ she was in his arms. 

"James, I want you," she whispered breathlessly against his mouth. She rucked his shirt up, touching the hot skin of his stomach. James could only whisper  _yes_ and throw the shirt over his head and clumsily attempt to unbutton her blouse. She laughed, helping him, and moaned as he nipped at her neck. His hands found the firm rise of her breasts, delicate lace against his fingertips drawing his attention to her underwear. 

He took in the sight with hungry eyes. Miranda's cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and wide, her breath coming fast and making her chest rise and fall. James moaned and kissed her again, the hot curl of arousal in his stomach urging his body towards her. 

They stripped the rest of their clothes as James led them to his bedroom, hands grasping at one another and finally,  _finally_ , feeling hot skin on skin. When she pushed him down to the bed, his breath stopped. He watched silently in anticipation as she lay over him, her body so  _perfect_ against him he almost wanted to cry out. 

"Touch me, James," she took his hand, placing it on her hip, giving him permission. He didn't need to be told again. 

Her breath caught when he touched her, the space between her legs hot and wet against his fingers, and she rocked against him. Moans dropped from her lips and James drank them up like he was parched. He wanted to make her cry out and say his name, he wanted to  _feel_ her on him, around him, inside him and everywhere. It was overwhelming how much he wanted her. He was hard and aching by the time she asked for a condom, ripping the packed open with her teeth and gasping as she felt his desire for her. 

When they joined, James felt as though he was having a religious epiphany. 

Miranda was beautiful above him, her skin shining with sweat in the low light and she seemed to shimmer as she rocked against him. It was breathtaking. James gripped her hips, driving up into her and loving the sound of pure pleasure she made as he did. 

Their movements sped up, became hasty and urgent, and James wanted it to last but he couldn't help it. Miranda felt so  _good_ , it had been so long and she felt so good-

He finished with a shout, hips pumping as his orgasm blindsided him. She moaned above him, rocking her hips almost desperately. James looked at her in awe, pushing a hand between them to press and stroke at her clit and gasped as her nails dragged down his chest. 

"Just a little more, oh  _god_ just a little more!" Miranda leaned down, pressed herself against him and trapped his hand, chasing her pleasure with determination and James felt his heart soar as she kissed him, panting into his mouth and her moans increasing in pitch and volume. 

As she came her body curled against him. He felt her clench on his softening cock, the motion making him gasp and writhe. 

The silence that followed was heaven. Miranda lay on him, her breath hot on his neck and their sweat cooling on their skin. James kissed the tip of her nose and squeezed her. 

After a few minutes he rolled them over, withdrawing with a low moan to find something to clean them up with. She wrapped herself in his sheets, hair mussed and tangled around her head like a dark halo. Miranda was stunning and he didn't want to leave her side ever again. The depth of that emotion shocked him, his feet stumbling, but he carried on until he was laying beside her again. They looked at one another for long moments, Miranda's hand drawing mindless patterns on his side. 

"You're beautiful," he whispered, "Thomas is a lucky man."

Mentioning him didn't make James wince, as he thought it would. Miranda's husband was a fact, not some dirty secret. 

She smiled at him, shifting closer and drawing him into a slow kiss. "And now so are you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has taken forever because I'm lazy and terrible..... but here we go. Time for James to have a dinner with the Hamiltons who both want to kiss him a lot. aja The Hamiltons Have No Propriety And James Is Scared

Miranda left early in the evening, slipping into her clothes and humming to herself. James watched her from the bed. She moved with an effortless grace, as if she owned the room and everyone in it, and James couldn't get enough of it. The way her hips swayed and her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders... She was beautiful. Sitting on the edge of the bed she put her socks on, leaning into James' hand on her back. 

"Come to dinner tomorrow night," she said softly. "I know I asked you earlier but... I'd be lying if I said I was a patient woman."

James laughed under his breath. "Patient isn't a word I would apply to you," he stroked the soft skin of her back, fingers touching a mole on her left shoulder blade not hidden by the backless top. How many times had Thomas done this? How many times had he been able to simply  _look_ at this woman and marvel at her?

Miranda turned and leaned towards him. "Have dinner with Thomas and I. He's curious about you and- well, I'm curious about him being curious about you."

"He's curious about me?" James sat up, hitching the sheet higher up his waist. Miranda nodded and touched his bare chest. He shivered. Thomas was  _curious_ about him? Something inside him burst into sparks. 

"He is. I can't say more, I don't  _know_ that much more... But come to dinner. If only to please me;" she kissed him, lips moving softly against his and making his chest tight with the simple pleasure of it. After years of being alone it was like a breath of fresh air to have Miranda with him. He kissed her harder and hummed, the sound reverberating low in his throat. Miranda smiled against him, pushing herself away and groaning. "I need to  _go,_ James. Loathe as I am to do it..."

James touched her cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You'll see me tomorrow night."

"You'll come then?"

He nodded and traced a finger down her throat to the collar of her shirt. 

She promised to give him the address later, kissing him again before picking her coat and bag from the floor. 

\----

He assumed that dinner was going to be an informal, relaxed affair. Miranda had said it would just be her and Thomas, just the three of them spending time in one another's company and getting to know one another. Or, he supposed, them getting to know  _him_. James almost called John. Almost. The man was much better at dealing with other people than James had ever been, having successfully navigated a successful relationship and multiple friendships throught his life. 

But James refrained. Dinner wasn't so scary, was it? He could  _do_ this. 

Honestly, yes he could. 

James dressed simply; dark jeans and a buttoned shirt, his well polished shoes glinting in the light as he moved around his flat. He tucked his phone in his pocket, purposefully  _not_ sending John a quick "help I don't know what I'm doing" text, and made his way out of the door. 

A bus ride and a short walk later and he was outside the Hamilton's home. It was tall, three stories, and plain on the outside. There was a small tree, no doubt ornamental, and a hip-height iron railing around the property. James closed the gate behind him and took deep breaths as he approached the door. Unbidden, thoughts of a trap filled his mind. Had Thomas lured him here for revenge? James  _had_ slept with his wife, after all, and rather openly. James' mind seemed to ignore that it was Miranda who had invited him, and that Thomas didn't seem the kind of man who would hurt a  _fly_ let alone enact revenge. Miranda had said there were no secrets between her and her husband. James trusted her. 

He knocked on the door and waited. 

Moments passed. The doorway light flicked on and illuminated the small paved porch. James blinked at the sudden light, eyes adjusting to the change, as the door opened and Miranda greeted him with a bright smile. 

"James!" She tugged on his arm and brought him into the house, hugging him close and kissing his cheek with a lingering softness that made him blush. To kiss him at  _his_ home was one thing, but in her  _own_ home? He felt nerves bubbling in his stomach again. 

Miranda took his coat, dragging James from his thoughts and folding the coat over her arm before appraising him head to toe. Her eyes flashed, her free hand reaching to run over the length of his arm. "You look good, she said under her breath. 

James took in the flush on her cheeks, the way her dress clung to her curved and the deep v of her neckline drawing his gaze down. "So do you," he murmured, voice gravelly in his throat. Her lashes fluttered and she laughed, low and throaty, as he lifted her hand and kissed it. 

"Thomas is still fussing. Come in and sit down, he might be a while."

She led him to a spacious living room, urging him to sit on one of the long sofas as she went to hang his coat and get them both drinks. There was an old armchair in the corner next to a grandfather clock. The ticking calmed his nerves. It reminded him of his youth in Padstow, of fishing with his grandfather and playing games at the large oak table in their dining room... They were simple days. His grandfather had a similar looking, though smaller, clock on the mantelpiece. 

Miranda appeared with a glass of deep red wine and sat next to him, one leg crossed over the other. She passed one to James, clinked the glasses gently together, and took a sip. James followed suit and hummed at the taste. Miranda smiled. Her foot touched his, her naked toes touching the fabric of his sock and teasing. 

"Would you mind taking your shoes off?" She asked, leaning close and running her hand over his shoulder. James muttered an "of course" and bent over to do so. His fingers kept slipping on the laces as her hand skimmed down his back, dragging heat in it's path. She pushed his shoes under the table with another beautiful low laugh. 

There was a shuffling and a mumbled curse from the corridor and he looked up just in time to see Thomas' jumper slip into place over his shirt, revealing his flushed face. He smiled, bright and beaming, as he saw James. He strode over, pink socks on his feet that certainly did not match, and leaned down to kiss his wife's cheek. James could smell his aftershave; something woody, probably incredibly expensive. His hair was still damp. The nerves in James' stomach tangled up, knotted and became anxious excitement. 

Finally, Thomas stood and looked at him. "Good evening, James," he said with that same bright smile, one hand extended. His skin was warm when James shook it. "I hope you found us easily!"

"Easily enough," he replied softly. Thomas made a soft sound and let go of his hand, fingers seeming to linger. 

"I've opened the merlot," Miranda said after a moment, looking curiously between the two of them. 

Thomas blinked, a soft "ah" coming from his lips, and rushed to the kitchen. He appeared a moment later with the bottle and a glass, settling into the armchair and pouring a glass. His long legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankle, made him look almost like a caricature. James couldn't help but smile; the man looked like one of those 1920's sketches, all long legs and stylish clothes, sharp lines and foppish hair. 

"Neither of us cook particularly well," Miranda said with a smile, "I hope that something reheated from a restaurant isn't too much of a disappointment?" 

James laughed, easing back into the sofa. "Not at all. I'm not fussy about what I eat."

"That's lucky... Thomas managed to burn scrambled eggs once and refused to eat something else," she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

James didn't bother, turning to grin at the man in questions and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Honestly?"

Thomas put a hand over his mouth, covering his grin. "They did taste awful. Made me terribly ill; I promised never to cook eggs again."

It was so  _bizarre_ to think of; Thomas, intelligent and successful as he was, failing at something as simple as  _scrambled eggs_. 

"Remind me to cook for you at some point. I'm not brilliant but I promise you wont be sick," James smirked and drank some wine, eyes meeting Thomas' across the room. 

"I'm sure we'd both enjoy that," Miranda said, her hip bumping into his on the seat. 

James' pulse stuttered, his throat tightening. Miranda flirted naturally, effortlessly, as she did everything. He had only known her a short while but it was long enough to understand that every word and sentence was carefully chosen. Judging by Thomas' wide eyes and the slight curve to his mouth, he understood the tease. 

The room seemed to have gotten  _much_ warmer. It might have been the wine, James had never learned to drink like other sailors, but he had a suspicion that he was being  _seduced_. Seduced again, by Miranda's words, but for her husband's benefit. 

"I'll start the food, it shouldn't take long," she said, her hand ghosting over James' shoulder as she stood and left the room. 

Thomas shuffled in his seat and placed his wine on the coffee table in front of him. James watched the movement, the way Thomas' trousers moved over the length of his legs, suddenly and acutely aware of Miranda's absence. 

"Thank you for the invitation," he said haltingly. 

Thomas smiled, breathing a laugh and looking down for a moment. "Not at all," he replied, looking up to James's eyes, his gaze darting to James' lips and back. "I admit that... Well, I didn't know if you'd accept, if I'm honest. Not everyone is willing to have  _dinner_ with the husband of the woman they're in a relationship with."

He said it simply. Without malice or contempt. It was a fact; James was, in many respects, in a  _relationship_ with Miranda. And it was true that not many would be comfortable with the situation he found himself in. "It's unusual, yes. But I want you to know that-"

"It's fine," Thomas interrupted, lifting his hand to stop James' speech. "You aren't overstepping any boundaries by being here or... or  _anything,_ at all. As long as Miranda is happy and unharmed, I am happy, honestly. It does help that you're willing to put up with _me_ though." He smiled, warm and open, and James felt himself blush. 

"You're not exactly hard to get along with," James responded with a smirk. 

Thomas stood and walked over, pouring James another glass of wine. "Oh you've only seen me put together and somewhat organised. Just wait until you see me rumpled and decaffeinated in the morning."

"I'm sure I'd like to;" he said the words without thinking, simply retorting with speed as he was want to do. As soon as the words left his mouth James felt his cheeks heat. Thomas was looking at him intently, his eyes wide and shining, lips parted in a small 'o' as he took in the words. He set the wine bottle down on the table and took a seat next to James. Cautiously, he glanced at James and a shy smile formed on his mouth. 

"That was... unexpected;" Thomas kept his gaze on James' chest, his hand coming to touch his upper lip. It must have been a nervous tic. James watched the finger run back and forth. "Not  _unwelcome_ , but unexpected."

James' chest seemed to collapse in on itself, his eyes watching as Thomas' hand reached out and touched the pocked of his jeans. He couldn't feel it, not really, but the  _idea_ of it made his breath stutter in his throat. James kept his hands where they were; one holding the now full glass of wine, the other on the arm of the sofa. Should he touch Thomas? Should he bridge that gap? He wanted to, suddenly he wanted nothing  _more_ than to touch him...

"Dinner is served!" 

Miranda came in, presenting a large plate of finger food and bread, a mixture of chopped salad vegetables and a few dishes of dipping sauces. If she saw how Thomas and James were suddenly so  _close_ she didn't comment at that moment. She simply put the food on the coffee table and sat on the sofa opposite the two men. 

Her eyes caught Thomas' and she smiled innocently. With a breadstick delicately held between two fingers she asked: "did I miss anything interesting?"

James lunged for the nearest item of food, putting his glass down and removing his ability to talk by shoving one of the cucumber sticks in his mouth. He heard Thomas clear his throat. "No, not really. I was just- I was letting James know that-"

"That as long as I'm happy,  _you're_ happy?"

Thomas nodded. 

"I'll let you have that one," she looked them both up and down with a half smile, "but only because your hand is practically in his pocket and you seem to have forgotten."

James laughed, sudden and shockingly loud. He covered his mouth, the laughter bubbling in his chest as Miranda started to laugh too. Thomas was flushed pink, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to join in. 

He didn't take his hand away. 

\---

They ate and talked, Miranda talking about her work and Thomas interjecting with ideas here and there. James watched them bounce thoughts off of one another in wonder; it was rare that one saw two people who fit together more  _perfectly_ than Thomas and Miranda. They seemed to communicate with words less and less as the conversation continued. He could barely keep up! 

But they asked him questions about his life. Was he working? No. Did he like his time in the Navy? Yes but it wasn't always fun. How did it feel being a landlubber again?

"Thomas,  _honestly_ , he isn't a pirate."

James had to laugh at that. 

"I considered it once," he said, putting the glass he had down and wondering just  _how much_ he had actually had to drink. "Being a pirate. The Navy is rather... strict, when it comes to relationships on board. Pirates, however, didn't seem to care that much."

Thomas leaned into him, clearly a little drunk, and gazed up at him from a perch on his shoulder. "You fell in love?"

James shook his head. "No. Not  _love_ , just... a fling. It ended a little badly and we ended up fighting at a bar. He doesn't exactly  _like_ me now."

There was a hum from his shoulder, Thomas was patting his knee a moment later. His hand was  _warm_... James could feel it when the hand rested there, the heat permeating through his jeans. "We like you," he said softly, leaning back to look up at James with such  _softness_ that his heart began to pound. 

"I like you too."

Thomas smiled at that. 

James looked at him; the way his eyelashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked, how his lips were darkened by wine, how his  _cheeks_ were darkened by wine and joy. He was- he was  _beautiful_ and James couldn't stop himself from kissing him even if he'd wanted to. 

Slowly he bent down, touching his lips to Thomas' with a gentleness he didn't think he possessed. Thomas's breath stopped as his body  _curved_ towards James. Their lips moved together slowly, as though they had all the time in the world to share that kiss. Thomas' hand on his knee drifted up to his thigh, griping lightly and making James moan softly in his throat. He felt fingers in the length of his hair and felt them move to cup the back of his head, felt Thomas guide James' mouth so they could kiss deeper, so they could be  _closer_ - 

There was a fire in his belly, dampened by wine but no less powerful. Thomas was making low sounds against his lips, the hand in his hair holding him close, the hand on his thigh squeezing and stroking until James wanted to call out. 

A cough from across the room startled them, the two men jumping apart. 

Miranda had her legs curled up under her. With one hand at her neck, toying with a necklace, she looked heatedly between them. "I hate to interrupt, but... We should probably talk about this before it goes much further."

Thomas, seeming to sober, nodded. His hand left James' thigh as he straightened himself out. "Yes, yes... you're right."

He looked at James again, biting his lip and making James want to kiss him all over again. James swallowed the lump in his throat and sat back, shifting in his seat to try and make his trousers more comfortable.

"All right," he said, steeling his voice but only managing to make it sound more husky and less in control than he felt. "Lets talk."

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terrible at timetables but here is the next chapter. Mainly discussion and some cuddling. I've never been in a poly relationship even though I think it would suit me best, so any critique on this is very much appreciated. 
> 
> Also a warning: switch of PoV to Thomas because I love him and wanted to explore his thought process in this.

Thomas pulled himself away, restraining himself from leaning back into James as his body so eagerly wanted to. Miranda was right; they needed to talk. Discussion was, as they had discovered, incredibly important if anything in this sort of arrangement was to be sorted out amicably. 

He sat back and busied his hands with the hem of his jumper. There was a loose thread. He tried  _not_ to pick it to pieces, instead aimed to put it inside one of the other loose stitches. His eyes met Miranda's across the room after a few moments.

_I don't know how to start,_ he said with his eyes and a slight frown. 

_I do_ , she replied with a soft curl of her lips. 

"It isn't often that Thomas and I feel attracted to the same man," Miranda spoke confidently, her legs crossed under her but her back straight, hands clasped in her lap. "We haven't had the same partner for many years, and I'm sure we agree when I say we don't want to hurt you."

Beside him, James shifted in his seat. 

Miranda touched her lip, drawing her finger across it. Her eyes gazed off towards the table. "I know how  _I_ feel, and I know what we have is still young, but-" she laughed, looking at Thomas and grinning. "It's almost like when we met."

He grinned back at her, a surge of warmth filling his veins. It  _was_ similar; the curious glances, the heat of the first kiss, the aching need to  _know_ someone... He had felt it then and he felt it again now. Only this time, he got to share that excitement with Miranda. Thomas dared a glance to James, saw the light glinting in his eyes and how he licked his lips, felt the surge of heat fill him again and took a deep breath. 

Thomas had always been so  _good_ at talking. He could win arguments until the sun came up, could draw people to his side and win over disparaging relatives with ease. But when it came to romance... he floundered. Quoting plays, novels, poetry; these were easy ways to display emotion. But putting words to a  _feeling_? It was difficult. 

With a deep breath, Thomas tried. "Miranda and I have talked about you," he started, turning to glance at James. "She knew the way I felt before  _I_ did. I think it's rather obvious that I'm interested in you;" he smiled sheepishly, watching as a crooked grin came over James' face. 

"Just a little, what with the kiss and all."

Thomas laughed, looking at the man and feeling his heart flutter. He enjoyed this simple flirtation, the acknowledgement of attraction. Miranda came to sit on the arm of the chair, one arm draped over Thomas' shoulders. "James, we need you to know that this is an open arrangement; you are free to leave whenever you like. If you want to talk about something, if we overstep or something changes, then do so. All we ask if that you respect us as individuals as well as a couple. Don't stay silent if something bothers you."

James nodded, his face serious as he considered her words. "And if I overstep? If I do something wrong?" He asked softly, body turning to face them both. 

"If that happens, we'll talk to  _you_. Mistakes happen in all relationships, don't they?"

She stood again, her hand reaching to touch James' cheek, and kissed him softly. James leaned into the kiss, humming low in his throat as their lips moved together. The familiar twist of arousal swept through Thomas' body in a wave. The last time he had a lover other than his wife had been years ago; he'd almost forgotten how it felt to  _want_ someone like this, to see them and fell his heart beat faster. Slowly he leaned back and relaxed into the sofa, letting that heat in his stomach simmer as Miranda lowered herself into James' lap, the two of them kissing languidly. 

A moment later they broke apart. Miranda was flushed, her cheeks dark as she took Thomas' hand. He squeezed her fingers gently and let her place his hand on James' knee. His thumb brushed the material of the man's trousers, and he heard James suck in a breath. Did Thomas affect him that much? Did a single touch, not even skin on skin, make James' heart pound as it did his own? The thought was intoxicating. His hand spread out, caressing the covered expanse of James' thigh and Thomas had to bite his lip when James groaned. James almost seemed to arch into the touch, his thigh tensing under Thomas' hand. 

"I think-" The words caught in James' throat, his arm tightening on Miranda's waist. "I think I'm going to need more hands."

He couldn't suppress the bark of laughter. And, as she often did, Miranda followed suit. The momentary confusion on James' face only fueled the laughter. Thomas couldn't resist leaning in to press a breathless kiss on James' throat. He felt James shiver against his lips, the laughter dying in his throat and being replaced by a soft moan. He mouthed at the skin, listening to the slowing ring of Miranda's laughter mix with the unsteady gasps falling from James' lips. A hand touched his shoulder, strong fingers gripping the back of his neck as his lips moved over James' freckled skin. If the thoughtof James wanting him was intoxicating,  _seeing_ that want almost made him moan out loud. 

The fingers in his hair tightened as he reached the thin skin behind James' hair, and Thomas really  _did_ moan at that. Pressure, almost pain, tingled through his body and settled low in his stomach. He opened his eyes, lifting his head to look at his lovers, and sucked in a breath at the sight. Both of them were watching him; two pairs of dark eyes, one green and one brown, two sets of lips parted in 'o's that Thomas wanted to kiss forever. He had known Miranda for years, had loved her for every single day of each one, and had kissed her times beyond count, but the sight of her then was enough to reignite the passion he had felt all those years ago. He touched her cheek and drew her towards him, kissing her with a single mindedness that made her shift to sit in his lap and crush her body to his. 

Miranda cradled his head in her hands, pressed her breasts to his chest and moaned against his lips. Thomas loved her beyond reason, beyond explanation, and he pushed that feeling into the kiss. 

Beside him he felt James shift to face them. Hands touched his neck, his cheek, fingers trailed over the shell of his ear and made him shiver. Callouses on hands from a life of work and toil were so different from Miranda's soft skin, it made Thomas' mind spin. He wanted both of these people so much he could barely  _stand_ it! With difficulty he broke the kiss with his wife, turning to look at James heatedly. 

"Would you care to stay the night?" He asked, feeling Miranda hum and nod in agreement. 

James swallowed, licked his lips, and Thomas failed to stop himself following the movement with his eyes. "I don't have anything with me," he said under his breath, voice low and husky. 

Miranda reached to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "You don't need to stay, it's alright if you don't want to;" she stroked James' cheek, her voice soft as though trying to keep from frightening him. 

James smiled ruefully. "Not tonight. I.. I think I want to take this slowly, I don't quite know what I'm doing."

He looked sad to say he wanted to leave, but Thomas couldn't bring himself to say anything against it. As much as he wanted to touch James and keep him there, he wouldn't do that without James saying  _he_ wanted it too. Leaning forward, an arm around Miranda to keep her steady, he kissed James' cheek. "Whatever you need," he whispered. 

They untangled themselves from one another, Miranda getting James' coat after a brief silence and an indication from the man that he should be going. At the door, James kissed them both. He kissed Miranda with familiarity, the two of them easily finding a balance between want and affection. As James moved to Thomas, they paused to look at one another. James' cheeks were pink with a soft blush, his eyes bright in the hallway light and Thomas felt a pang in his chest. 

_Oh dear,_ he thought, something like fear in his blood.  _Maybe slow is for the best._ Thomas felt his throat click as he swallowed, James lips touching the side of his mouth. 

He was still reeling from a rush of... of  _something_ when the door closed and Miranda took his hand. 

"Are you alright? You look pale," she said, tugging him to sit down. "What is it, Thomas?"

He shrugged, drawing her close and kissing the palm of her hand. "I'm- I'm not sure, just a little overwhelmed I suppose..." 

Miranda frowned, clearly not believing the vague statement. "Well when you figure it out, tell me. Whatever it is."

Looking up at her, he smiled. Of course he would tell her; Miranda was privy to every flight of fancy in his head, and when he figured out if the thing he was feeling was just attraction or something  _more_ , he would tell her. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this is super late but i've finally written more! Rating is still up because there is more sex to come and I think I'll finish this at 10 chapters. Two to go!
> 
> for anyone who is sticking with me through this mess, thank you. Your support makes this a reality.

Coming back to his dark, empty flat was the last thing James wanted to do. But, he did.

He tore himself away from the temptation the Hamilton's posed for him and went home. He shut the door and sagged against it, images of the couple forming behind his eyelids. He saw them kissing and touching each other, saw them kissing and touching  _him_ as well. The memory of those hands on his thighs, his neck, made his blood heat. He felt his gut tighten in anticipation and arousal. 

James knew it wasn't just the alcohol that had spurred him to kiss Thomas; he knew he wanted the man just as much as he wanted Miranda. They both enchanted him and he knew he wouldn't stay away. He didn't  _want_ to stay away. He promised himself to call in the morning, to talk to either of them about it as soon as possible. Already he felt the telltale signs of  _missing_ someone settle in. 

His previous relationships had all been hasty things borne from bad decisions and rash action. He was determined to make something  _good_ out of this. 

That didn't stop him from stripping off his clothes, falling into his bed, and palming his cock through his boxers. The breath in his throat caught as he imagined Thomas kissing him as he had that evening, single minded and full of passion. He imagined the sensation of Miranda's breasts against his chest. In his mind he saw the two of them driving him to madness with touches and moans and words. He tugged at his cock, moaning under his breath as he twisted his wrist at the top of each stroke. His gut tightened and sweat broke out on his brow.

In his mind he saw Thomas naked and panting, sweat shining on his skin. He saw Miranda moaning as she sank down on his cock. He saw a multitude of images, all of them containing the Hamilton's gasping his name and clutching his skin. 

James cried out as he came. A shudder wracked him and his breath stopped for a moment with the force of it. 

He fell asleep with the memory of Miranda's laughter and Thomas' kiss in his mind. 

\---

The next morning he was accosted by an enthusiastic John Silver and his partner, a less outwardly enthusiastic but still invested Madi Scott. She kissed his cheek and made her boyfriend sit down before he fell over in his haste to know what had happened the night before. 

"I haven't even woken up properly yet," James said with a huff, placing mugs of hot coffee on the table. "Let me do  _that_ at least before you bombard me with questions."

Madi rolled her eyes and brushed a lock of John's hair behind his ear. "At least you know he cares," she said. "As annoying as it might be."

"I am offended you would even suggest that!" John laughed, leaning to kiss his girlfriend's cheek in. "I am delightful, and my affections are clearly and unreservedly given. Now drink your damned coffee and tell us what  _happened_!" He tapped the table pointedly. "I'm many things, but patient is not one of them."

James huffed, lifting the mug to his lips before whispering "I know" into it's depths. 

"I heard that!"

"You were supposed to," James kicked his shin under the table. "Not  _much_ happened, we ate dinner and had a few drinks... And then-"

John shuffled forward on his seat. "And then?"

Madi silenced him with a glare. "John, shush."

They both turned to look at him expectantly. James took a deep breath, letting it out as a long sigh disguised as a cooling breath on his coffee. "Thomas kissed me," he mumbled. Ignoring the delighted gasps from his guests, he continued. "A few times, actually, I almost stayed the night."

"Why the hell didn't you?" John asked incredulously. 

James shrugged. "They clearly wanted me to but I... I want to take it slowly. I don't want to rush into this and end up hurting either of them. I- I actually  _like_ them, alright?" He huffed out a breath as though admitting it was akin to taking a physical blow. Given his tendency towards self destruction and self sabotage, it wasn't unlikely that it  _would_ all go wrong and he would end up alone again. 

John sighed and clumsily shuffled his chair towards James'. He put a hand on his arm. "I know what you're thinking, so you can stop it right now. You're a miserable sod half the time, yes, but you  _deserve_ something good. Something like this;" he squeezed James' shoulder and smiled at him. "Take it from someone who's finally got his happy ending."

Looking at the two people sat at his table, seeing their happiness and devotion to one another, James made a promise to himself. He would leave thoughts of despair and failure here, at this table, and let happiness finally get a grip on him. It was a little terrifying. 

"I think we should celebrate," Madi interjected with a grin. "Lunch in the park, maybe?" She stood, dropping a kiss on John's head before moving to open James' fridge. 

"There isn't anything to really  _celebrate,_ Madi," James pushed John's hand from his shoulder where it had been slapping him. John clearly disagreed. 

"We're going out and I'm going to make sandwiches before we do!" John stood, carefully moving his prosthetic out from under the table, and made his way to the counter. Madi pushed the fridge door shut and leaned against it. 

"No you aren't. We're celebrating, which means proper food."

"I make proper food!"

James laughed, sitting back to take in the gentle reality of his friend's love for one another. He pulled his phone from his pocked and brought up the messages. How to start... He just wanted to say thank you, to say that he had enjoyed the evening and would really like to see them both again, and soon. The night before had uncovered a need in James; he wanted to be seen, to be touched and kissed, to have someone to talk to about those things only lovers talked about. After the mess of his previous relationships it would be nice for it to go  _well_. 

He started tapping out words. 

_Thanks for last night, I had a great time. I know I left quickly but I'd still really like to see you again, you **and** Thomas. Are you free soon?_

He put the phone away, resisting the urge to keep it on the table and check it every five seconds. 

Madi and John bickered a little for the next half an hour, gathering bits and pieces from James' fridge and cupboards, no heat behind any of their words. They put the fruit, biscuits, left over cous cous and nearly stale bread into a bag and ushered James into his coat.

They took a bus to St James' Park (which was obviously because John was a little shit who liked to add a little 'humour' to the day) and sat somewhere sunny. James watched his two friends talk and laugh together, adding what he could to the conversation when it seemed needed, and let the world stroll past. He managed to leave his phone alone for over an hour. When he looked at it, his heart sped up. He had a message from Miranda. 

_We'd love to see you again. My week is a little hectic but Thomas is home all week, I'll give him your number. M x_

James drew in a deep breath and settled back on the grass, not caring if his back got a little damp. John pocked his leg, wordlessly asking how he was. He shrugged and fought the grin trying to form on his lips. John saw it anyway and grinned back. 

"Casanova got a text," John sung under his breath, tugging at his trouser leg. "Show us, then! When are you seeing them next?" He wrapped an arm around Madi, the two of them watching him with unbridled excitement. 

"You two must have terribly dull lives, taking so much interest in  _mine_ ;" he fiddled with the phone in his hands and looked up at the bright sky, ignoring the disgruntled huffs from his friends. "But I don't  _know_ when, it's still being thought out. Miranda is busy this week."

Madi leaned down to meet his eyes, resting on one elbow. "But is her husband?"

James shook his head, fighting that same grin again and failing again. He felt the frissons of excitement flit about his body at the thought of seeing Thomas again, of being  _alone_ with him knowing that he could touch if he wanted... James thought of the way Thomas' eyes flicked to his mouth and back, remembered the feel of his lips, and groaned softly under his breath. He  _really_ wanted to see him again. 

"If you chicken out and  _don't_ go see Mr. Hamilton  _or_ his wife, I will personally come to your house when you're asleep and beat you with my leg;" John pointed at him and spoke with as much false anger as he could muster. 

"Since when did you know how to pick a lock?" He asked, ignoring the comment. John just snorted and ignored  _his_ comment in turn. 

"All I'm saying is that you really should see him. You're a little bit smitten, you know that? It's been, what, two weeks since you met these people? When was the last time you got this excited about something so quickly?" John said softly, leaning down with Madi and placing a gentle hand on James' arm. "A long time ago, I'll bet."

They stared at each other for a few moments. Madi patted her boyfriend's shoulder to bring his attention back. "We love you, James, and we want to see you happy. But we  _know_ you, and we know you don't let yourself have that happiness often. Let this be one of those times."

He smiled at her and John, once again struck by his luck in finding two people who would call him friend so easily. 

Another hour passed, the sun drifting lazily overhead as the day went by. John napped, his head on Madi's lap and her fingers running through the curly lengths of his hair. She told him he needed a haircut, he said he probably did but wasn't interested in having one. He thought he needed to shave, she said the beard made him look dashing like a roguish pirate captain. James said John would make a brilliant captain, if a little ineffective at sailing. They decided between them that James would have to captain the ship, with John taking charge of the crew and Madi providing the intelligence of the operation. All in all it was a pleasant afternoon. 

As they walked back to James' flat, his phone buzzed in his pocked. He'd almost forgotten about it. Letting his friends take the lead in front of him, James fished for the phone and unlocked it. An unknown number was at the top of the screen, a short message underneath it, and James' heart did that stuttering thing it had done earlier again. 

_Hello James, it's Thomas. Checking the number works! If it isn't James then ignore this, but have a nice day._

He laughed, saving the contact number and typing back a quick reply. 

_You have the right number, but it's nice to know you're so kind to strangers_

In front he heard John laugh, Madi joining him. His phone buzzed again in his hand. 

_I'm always kind to strangers, but I'm glad you're not a stranger. Having a good day?_

James replied saying that yes, he had had a good day. He wondered if he should be bold and ask when Thomas was free... would that be too soon? Should he try having more of a conversation first? His phone buzzed before he could even think about it. 

_I'm glad. Not to be too forward but Miranda said you'd like to see us again? How soon? It might be obvious but I'd love to see you too, sooner rather than later. Are you free Wednesday?_

It was without a doubt the most enthusiastic 'I like you' that James had ever received. Thomas wanted to see him just as much as he wanted to see Thomas. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks, the earnest enthusiasm making him want to giggle.

_I'm free Wednesday. Yours or mine?_

James had sent the text before he realised what it implied. He hadn't meant it that way, but-

The response came before he could send an apology.

_Yours, Miranda says its cosy! I'd like to see for myself :)_

It didn't seem that an apology was needed, after all.  

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has taken F O R E V E R mainly because i've been working hard and sobbing over the finale so.... happy thomas/james ahead because why not? and I want them to be happy F O R E V E R too.

There were endless butterflies in his stomach, flitting and dancing around in his stomach and chest as James woke on Wednesday morning. The sun was bright outside as it filtered through the gap in the curtains and James had to steady himself as he got out of bed. 

Was this  _normal?_ Was it considered normal to feel so anxious yet eager to see someone? The idea of seeing Thomas so soon... it was thrilling and frightening in its intensity. He had only spent moments alone with the man before, talking mostly and then a  _kiss_ \- he barely knew how to act around the man without Miranda as a mediator between them. But then again, it was all part of a learning curve. And he wanted to; he wanted to learn about these two people who fate had placed in his path, he wanted to explore how they might work together. 

Excitement bubbled in his veins. He stumbled through his flat as he ate breakfast, dressed, and showered. Barefoot, he picked up his post from the floor by the door. There was nothing of interest. No letters from family or friends, no invitations... just junk mail and take away menus. He read the paper, and it failed to entertain him as time kept dragging on. 

And the morning continued to drag until his phone buzzed. Thomas was on his way. He'd be forty five minutes.

James sprung into action, suddenly afraid that his flat was untidy, that it was unfit for company. It wasn't; he was strictly tidy, a side effect of spending most of his life in the military. But he went room to room just in case. In his bedroom he paused, eyeing the freshly made bed. A frisson of nervous excitement went through him. Would Thomas want to sleep with him so soon? Was he as forward as Miranda, as without reservation as she was? James found himself hoping so, if only to justify how long he'd spent washing himself in the shower. 

Just in case they  _did_ enter the bedroom, he sprayed a little air freshener and drew the curtains mostly shut. That would at least stop the neighbours getting an eye full. 

Ten minutes later James was sat at his kitchen table trying  _not_ to watch the clock. Then the doorbell rang. His heart leaped into his chest. He swallowed, brushed creases from his t-shirt, and rushed to open the door. 

For a moment it seemed like Thomas was haloed in light. James smiled despite himself, unable to prevent the curling of his lips even if he had wanted to. Thomas looked almost  _casual_ in his light trousers and soft cotton shirt, his hair falling ever so slightly over his forehead. He beamed at James, ducking his head as a flush crept onto his cheeks. 

"I hope I'm not too early," Thomas said, letting James lead him down the hallway. "I didn't want to seem too eager but- well, I  _am_."

James laughed under his breath, enamoured by Thomas' admission as he took them to the living-room to sit on the couch. "You're not the only one," he offered, bumping their shoulders together. 

Thomas looked at him, head tilted to the side, and lay his hand on James' knee with the palm up. James linked their fingers together. He felt warm,  _giddy_ , like he was holding hands as a boy for the first time. Thomas squeezed his fingers gently and brushed his thumb over James' knuckles. 

"How was your week?" Thomas asked while watching his own thumb move. 

"Dull," James responded, leaning into him, "I spent most of yesterday looking for jobs online and looking forward to today. And you?"

Thomas hummed under his breath and squeezed James' hand. "Study week; no lectures, no marking, a little preparation to do... I've done little but think of you. Miranda finds it all rather entertaining I'm sure..." He made a soft sound and James felt his cheeks heat. 

He brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to Thomas' knuckles. At the small intake of breath the man made he did it again, lips lingering on the unblemished pale skin. 

"Can I kiss you?" Thomas asked in a whisper.

James kissed him in lieu of an answer. He felt Thomas put an arm around his back, felt him press closer as their mouths moved against each others. He moaned at the feel of Thomas' tongue as the kiss deepened. Thomas' hand gripped tighter on the back of his t-shirt and James pushed himself closer, curving into the space between them until he could feel the heat of Thomas' body against his chest. Thomas manouvered them closer, leaning back on the couch to let James sit in his lap, the two of them panting against one another's mouths as they touched each other. He felt Thomas' hand on his lower back and arched into the touch, grasping at the mans shoulders for balance. 

"I didn't invite you here for sex I promise," he managed to say between kisses. 

"I didn't come here expecting sex," Thomas replied breathlessly. He pressed their foreheads together, breathing in deeply. 

James smiled and rubbed their noses together, shifting on Thomas' lap and feeling him shiver. "It  _is_ on the table, however. If- if you want."

Thomas laughed and bit his lip. "I'd prefer a bed, if that's on offer?"

James groaned, leaning to take Thomas' mouth with his own. He kissed Thomas hard, rocking their hips together until he felt heat start to form in his gut. He  _wanted_ Thomas, he wanted to touch and kiss and taste him and he wanted it  _now_.

"It's on offer," he said into Thomas' ear. He nibbled the lobe, drawing it between his teeth and listening to the sound of Thomas moaning. It was beautiful. He thought of Miranda, of how she had tasted and how he had loved the feel of her around him. He missed her for a moment. 

Thomas stroked a hand through his hair. "You don't have to," he said, as if sensing James' change of thought. 

"No!" James kissed him again, pressing their foreheads together. "I want to. I- I  _really_ want to."

He took Thomas by the hand and led him to the bedroom. Reaching for Thomas' shirt he began to undress him, undoing the buttons slowly and slipping the fabric from the broad shoulders. Thomas was pale, his skin unmarred by freckles or scars, and James sucked on his lip with the sudden urge to bite. Thomas pressed a finger to his lip and gasped when James opened his mouth to taste. 

"Oh," Thomas whispered. 

James pushed him to the bed with one hand on his chest and the other at his hip. Thomas fell back, grinning as James took his t-shirt off and unbuttoned his fly. 

" _Oh_ ," he whispered again. Thomas stared at James, his eyes roaming from James' shoulders to his chest and down his stomach. "You're  _beautiful_." 

James flushed, quickly shucking his trousers off before climbing back into Thomas' lap. They kissed again and James huffed a surprise breath when Thomas' lips dragged down his throat, sucking lightly and sending heat through him. He felt Thomas' hands caress his back, felt them tease at the edge of his boxers and pushed Thomas down. He made quick work of Thomas' trousers, practically throwing them across the room before laying over Thomas and  _finally_ feeling his bare skin. 

Thomas made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, his hands pawing at James' hips as he began to rock their bodies together. James looked down at the man below him and licked his lips. He wasn't muscular, his belly ever so slightly round, his thighs wonderfully soft and James had to lean down to bite at the juncture of his neck. He sucked at the soft skin and heard Thomas' sharp intake of breath. There were fingers in his hair tugging lightly, pressing him closer and James was helpless to resist. He sucked and bit a dark mark into the pale column of Thomas' throat and thrust his hips down, aching for  _something_. 

" _God_ , James, you-" Thomas moaned louder, his hips thrusting as James sat up, hands pressed to Thomas' chest. Thomas' hands came up to stroke down his front. "Tell me what you want, James. Tell me, I'll give it to you."

James rocked his hips and felt the hard press of Thomas' cock against his own, a flash of lust making his heart race even faster.

"Fuck me."

Eyes widening and lips parting in a gasp, Thomas looked as though he were hearing the words for the first time. He nodded, sitting up to lock their lips together in a harsh kiss. James broke it, quickly moving to grab the lube from his bedside drawer before turning to draw Thomas to him again. The blond lay over him, drawing his hand up James' side and back down to push his boxers down his thighs.

It seemed as though time sped up for a while. Thomas kissed his way down James' body, lips hot and eager as he mouthed at James' cock and bit lightly at his thighs. With long fingers he opened James up, teasing him mercilessly until James felt he would nearly  _beg_ for Thomas to go faster. He pressed a hand to Thomas' cock and stroked just to hear the man moan as his hips thrust against his hand. His body felt too hot as Thomas' fingers scissored and thrust inside him, the anticipation of having  _Thomas_ inside him growing with each moment. 

" _Please_ ," he whispered hoarsely. " _Please_ I want-"

Thomas kissed him, withdrawing his fingers, and James shuddered as Thomas' hot mouth kissed just below his ear. "Hush, it's alright. Have you got a condom?" James nodded, gesturing to the drawer. He felt Thomas move over him and mouthed at the jut of his shoulder. 

There was a rustle of foil and then Thomas was there, gently encouraging James to part his thighs and let him lay between them. 

"Can I?" He asked in a low voice. James nodded, wrapping his thighs around Thomas' hips and reaching to kiss him. 

There was no pain, no discomfort, only the heady feeling of being penetrated and James couldn't stop the long moan that tore from his throat. He threw his head back, hands grasping at Thomas' arms. 

" _Fuck!_ " He hissed. Thomas pressed his forehead to James' shoulder and groaned as if he'd been shot. "Thomas, Thomas  _move_ , please move," he begged under his breath. 

Then Thomas  _did_. 

He thrust slowly, the pleasure of it driving the air from James' lungs. Thomas's hips moved in a fluid motion, back and forth and back again, the drag of his cock making James' head swim. He felt so  _good_. Thomas' eyes were open and fixed on his own, his cheeks red with a flush and his lips parted in a pleasured 'o' that James could imagine around his cock. The image made him moan again. Why hadn't he started there? Why hadn't he dropped to his knees and used his mouth to make Thomas' face look like that?

But there would be time for that later, time for  _everything_ later he thought. 

A sharp thrust drew him from his thoughts, Thomas' hips moving faster. His cock rubbed James' prostate and made him cry out. His cock jerked, eyes rolling back as pleasure coursed through his veins.  _"Thomas!"_ He shouted, arching his back and driving his hips back into each thrust. The sound of skin on skin, the smell of clean sweat and sex, the taste of Thomas' mouth on his own- it was too much. James felt his orgasm approaching, almost too fast. His mind was blank as Thomas fucked him hard, faster with each movement and it was  _so good-_

Thomas wrapped a hand around his cock and James made a broken sound as that beautiful hand started to jerk him off. His toes curled, mouth parting in a silent shout and he barely had time to whisper "I'm coming" before he was. Thomas moaned at the sight, his hips driving harder and faster and it made the silent shout turn into a long moan. 

"So beautiful, James, so beautiful, come for me  _yes_ ," Thomas whispered, leaning over him to kiss him messily. 

James relaxed back, his arms wrapping around Thomas' shoulders as the man fucked him, his movements slowing as the urgency died down. He leaned up to breathe into Thomas' ear; "I want to taste you."

Thomas made a broken sound, whispering "yes, _please_ ", his hips jerking before he pulled out and lay back on the bed. James wasted no time in taking the condom off and diving down to wrap his lips around Thomas' cock. He moaned, ignoring the faint taste of latex as he bobbed his head. Thomas' hands held the back of his head and his jaw, tender and not forcing but steadying. He could hear the ragged breath coming from Thomas' mouth and it spurred him on. 

He took Thomas' cock down as far as he could, swallowing around the length and shuddering as he remembered how much he  _enjoyed_ this; the weight on his tongue, the taste, the feel of thighs tensing either side of his head. He loved it. 

Thomas clearly did to, if his steady stream of cursing and moaning was anything to go by. He repeated James' name like a prayer, his head thrown back and his pale skin glowing pink in the low light. James sucked harder, his fingers wrapped around the base and Thomas made a low sound. 

"I'm- I'm so close,  _please_ James I'm so close!" 

James pressed a finger just behind his balls, massaging as he sucked the tip of Thomas' length. He felt Thomas tense and drew back to jerk him off fast. 

" _James!"_

Thomas came with a shudder, his hips jerking, cock leaking over James' fingers and joining the mess already on his stomach and chest. It was beautiful to witness, and James decided he wanted to see it as many times as possible. 

With a groan he got up and fetched a damp towel from the bathroom, cleaning himself off before joining Thomas on the bed. 

"That was... spectacular," Thomas said in an awed voice. He looked at James and drew him into a soft kiss, pulling him close until they were touching head to toe. "Thank you."

James laughed. He curled into the warmth Thomas gave off, feeling content down to his bones. Thomas hummed and tightened his arms. They lay like that, quiet and half dozing, for what could have been an hour. He didn't want to move, not while Thomas was stroking his back and humming softly into his hair. It was so peaceful, being in his arms. James hadn't been able to just  _lay_ with a man for years. With Miranda it was easy; she would tease him and listen to his stories from the Navy, and he found himself missing her again. He felt Thomas sigh and looked up. 

"Are you alright?" He asked under his breath. 

Thomas nodded. "I'm more than alright," he responded. "I was just thinking... if you're agreeable, of course, would you want to share this with my wife?"

James smiled to himself, wondering if Thomas was secretly a mind reader. He nodded and buried his face in Thomas' shoulder, imagining another body with them, long dark hair curling over his skin as Miranda lay with them. 

Yes, he would like to share that. 


	10. Chapter 10

Thomas was still with him the morning after, his breathing slow and steady as he slept. James watched him for a while, thinking back on all the years he had spent hiding from men he wanted, ignoring his own desires, fucking and leaving and fighting with self loathing. He hadn’t enjoyed being young. Now, with a little age and possible wisdom, he had come to enjoy being  _ with  _ someone. He enjoyed being with Miranda, with Thomas… 

It was in that moment he knew he was in love. 

And it was ridiculous, wasn’t it? To fall in love so fast and so _hard_ that it made your heart pound. It was as though things had _changed_ for him and it was almost like being drunk.  

Thomas stirred, a sigh falling from his lips and his eyes opening.  

“Morning,” he whispered, voice thick with sleep. He reached up and touched James’ cheek, a softness filling his face and James couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him. 

He couldn’t help pressing their bodies together, couldn’t help moving against him and moaning as the heat of their skin spread to his heart, to his cock, to his very soul. Thomas’ hands and mouth made him cry out, James felt his body surge like the ocean towards the man and it was beyond him to resist kissing him over, and over, and  _ over _ -

But, eventually they had to get up. It was early, barely 6am, but the world moved on despite the will of lovers. 

James said goodbye to him, a lingering goodbye that almost turned into Thomas staying another day. But they managed. Thomas said that they could see each other again on Friday night. He was impatient, James could tell, to see him again and it made his heart flutter.  

They arranged the evening for Friday, when Miranda was finished with work and while Thomas was still free. James felt himself getting anxious just hours after Thomas had left. To fill the time between that moment and seeing them again… what was he to do? If he had still been in the navy he might have found someone to talk to, something to see or do that had something to do with work but- 

He needed to get out of the flat.  

Gates still lived in Camden by the river, James made his way there and took a stroll through the market to give the man time to get up. Even in the early morning the streets were busy; James wandered down the path and let his mind empty. When his phone rang he knew Gates was awake and would let him in.  

“You’re overthinking again.”

James huffed and shucked off his coat. “Good to see you too, Hal.”

Gates rolled his eyes, took the coat and gestured for James to follow him. They stood in the man’s kitchen, freshly brewed tea in a pot steaming nearby, and James felt a sense of homeliness settle over him.  

“I know you, James. I keep telling you this and you keep forgetting… Silver told me you’re seeing more of the Hamiltons?” James nodded, and Gates smiled. “Good. I knew they’d be good for you. You spend too much time worrying about what people think of you, lad! And even though I’ve only known the couple for a little while, they _don’t_ worry about that shit. They’ll be good for you, you might learn a little about letting go.”  

“You set me up with a married couple to make me _relax_ about myself?” James asked, brow furrowed.   

“Exactly. Now get some tea down you and tell me what’s been going on.”

 

\--

 

They talked for an hour or two; James told him about how easy it had been to fall in with the Hamiltons, how it felt so _natural_ to just let go and be a part of their lives even after so little time had passed. Hal just smiled and nodded, pouring another cup of tea and laughing when James put in too much sugar.  

“You’re gone,” he said after a moment. 

  
“Gone?”

Hal huffed a breath. “You’re falling for them. I saw it before and I’m seeing it now.” 

James looked down, that anxious ball in his chest tightening. “Last time you said it was bad, that it would only be trouble… And you were right.”

“Last time you got in too deep with someone who didn’t care enough about you to tell you the truth. Last time you fell in love with a selfish prick. This time- this time you’re looking in the right place.” Hal sighed heavily and put a hand on James’ shoulder. “Trust my judgement, son, this time if not again.”

They smiled at one another and then laughed, James letting Hal bring him in for a one armed hug.  

He left not long after feeling lighter, more sure of himself. Walking back through Camden he let himself think about the possibility that he  _ was  _ in love. He knew the signs, knew his own reaction and what it could mean. He had already admitted it to himself that morning. And was it a bad thing? To fall in love? 

James didn’t think so. 

He walked home with a spring in his step. 

 

\--

 

That Friday he made his way to the Hamilton’s residence, nervous excitement bubbling in his stomach and a barely suppressed grin on his face. When he opened the door Thomas was smiling brightly and took James’ hand.  

He kissed James, slow and deep as they door shut behind them and James couldn’t help melting into it. A moan slipped from his lips into Thomas’ mouth, his hands coming up to hold onto the taller man’s shoulders and Thomas drew him closer, held onto him just as tightly.  

A cough from the living room startled them. James was sure his cheeks would be bright red but he found he didn’t care, not when Miranda was looking at them so gently. 

“Are we skipping dinner and going straight to dessert?” She said with a bright laugh. 

Thomas nudged James’ jaw with his nose. “What do you want, James?” He asked in a low voice.  

“I want dessert,” he managed to say, eyelashes fluttering as Thomas kissed his neck, a hand moving to rub his chest through the thin material of his t-shirt. He heard Miranda come closer and felt her breath on his cheek as she moved to kiss him.  

“Are you sure?” Thomas asked.  

James nodded, opening his eyes to look at the man before focusing on Miranda. He had _missed_ her, the way she melted against him so beautifully, her body arching into his, her mouth so soft and demanding all at once… He moaned, basking in the feel of her against him even as Thomas moved behind him and _oh_ , that was something.  

Thomas kissed his neck and ran his hands up and down James’ sides. James felt himself shiver as Thomas’ hands grasped his hips, Miranda eagerly moving against him and he let them lead him to the bedroom with as much grace as he could muster. Which, given the circumstances, wasn’t much. 

  
“Come here darling,” Miranda whispered into his ear, drawing him to the bed. She stripped him bare, lay him down and beckoned for Thomas to come over. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand over the pale and freckled skin of James’ naked thigh.  

“Beautiful…” Thomas breathed. He leaned over and pressed kisses up the length of James’ thigh, nipped lightly at his hip and moved to kiss over his stomach. “So beautiful, James.” 

James moaned, lifting himself to kiss Miranda and gasping as she and Thomas both reached for his cock at the same time. The dual sensations of their hands and lips on him was  _ maddening _ . He groaned into Miranda’s mouth as the couple did their best to drive him mad. Thomas leaned down and took James’ cock into his mouth and James nearly shouted even as Miranda kissed him harder, deeper, gripping his hip and keeping him still. 

“Fuck,  _ fuck _ , please that-” James knew he was gasping. He knew he was wrecked as Miranda shifted to sit over his chest. “Miranda I want- I need-”

“Tell me James,” she whispered, stroking his jaw and running her hand through his hair. 

He swallowed as Thomas’ throat fluttered around him and _God_ how did he get so good as this? Thomas moaned, the vibration sending shivers down James’ spine and he gripped Miranda’s hips, trying to say without words that he wanted her closer.  

“Want to taste you,” he said through the haze of lust and adoration.  

Miranda smiled and she looked then like a contented saint in some stained glass window. She shifted her hips forward, moved until she was over his mouth and moved her underwear aside. James lifted his head, swiped his tongue over her cunt and moaned, lifting his hands to take hold of her ass and grind her onto his face. The taste of her made him dizzy, the feel of Thomas still between his thighs though now just kissing them and smoothing his large hands over them making James hum in satisfaction.  

Miranda sighed and shuddered. She started to thrust her hips in small circles as she chased her pleasure. James heard the muffled sound of Thomas stripping and sucked at Miranda’s clit to hear her shout. He focused on the task and felt one of Miranda’s hands tugging at his hair as she shivered.  

“Come for us, love,” Thomas said. He was behind her, straddling James’ hips and thumbing Miranda’s nipples and kissing her neck.  

With a low and shivery moan she did; James doubled his efforts as she came, felt the muscles in her thighs shake and drank the wetness on his tongue with his own moan.  

She collapsed at his side with a sigh of utter satisfaction, watching as Thomas leaned over him and licked the wetness from James’ mouth and chin. 

“Is it my turn yet?” Thomas laughed, leaning down and grinding their hips together.  

James grinned against the blond’s lips, thrusting up against him and feeling how _hard_ Thomas was against him. “How do you want me?” He asked breathlessly.  

“Inside me,” Thomas replied, his voice a velvet whisper in James’ ear. “Miranda fingered me earlier, got me ready for you. I kept calling your name as she opened me for you,” he continued and James felt the feral growl fall from his lips as he crushed their mouths together.  

Thomas grabbed a condom and rolled it deftly over James’ cock before sinking down on him in one fluid movement. The blond threw his head back and gasped, his hands gripping James’ chest until there were ten crescent moon dents in the skin. His hips shifted, he grinded his hips in lazy circles and James almost combusted with how good it felt. 

Beside them, Miranda moved to kiss and suck at James’ neck. “He isn’t exaggerating,” she whispered in his ear. “One finger, one mention of your name and he was like some wild creature of Eros, begging for you and dripping in my hand. But I didn’t let him come. He wasn’t allowed, not without you…” 

James grit his teeth together, fought the urge to slam up into Thomas and just finish right then. He grabbed Thomas’ hips, grip tight enough to bruise, and made the man move faster, made the rhythm increase as he watched the unbridled pleasure flit across Thomas’ face.  

“ _Please_ , James,” Thomas gasped. “Fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me-_ ** _God!_** ”  

Thomas fell forward  when James thrust up, cock brushing against his prostate and a hand going to his prick. 

Seeing Thomas in rapture would never get old, not to James. The way Thomas would writhe, moan, sweat making his skin glisten, and the beautiful way his voice would rise and fall as he shivered was something James would never get tired of. 

Thomas finished fast, hard, his features going lax as he came over James’ fist and chest. His hips jerked and he tightened around James’ cock. 

“Come in me,” Thomas moaned as he lay over James’ body. “Fill me, James, don’t stop _please_ it’s so good!” He breathed in James’ ear, a hand in James’ hair and his mouth sucking dark circles into his neck.  

It was almost as though he had been commanded; James stopped breathing for a moment, his hips pistoning up into Thomas’ ass as orgasm rushed through him like a wave. His balls drew up and that tight curling in his belly unfurled like a flower in the sun. Thomas moaned in his ear and James found himself holding the man to him so tight they couldn’t breath. 

Minutes later he was curled between the Hamiltons. Miranda was pressed to his chest, kissing his neck lazily, and Thomas was at his back running hand up and down James’ side. 

James didn’t know if he had ever been happier than in that moment. He smiled to himself and held Miranda a little tighter.  

He stayed the night, still between Thomas and Miranda, and woke to Thomas’ sleeping face.   

As quietly as he could he left the bed and went to find the missing member of their trio. Miranda was in the kitchen, a cup of tea cradled in her hands as she stared out of the window.  

“Morning,” he said into the skin of her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. “Sleep well?”

She hummed and smiled. “Never better… James?”

  
“Mm?” 

“This is… I want you to know, Thomas and I- we _really_ like you, I wanted you to know that. This isn’t a passing fancy,” she said with a slight frown.  

James kissed her, slow and sweet. She sighed and leaned into him. “No,” he whispered against her lips, “it’s not.”

 

\--

 

A week later he told them he loved them. 

A month after that he was staying there almost every night. It only made sense, Thomas said one night as he palmed James’ hardening length through his boxers, that he keep some clothes there.  

A fortnight after _that_ he was moving in and had met Miranda’s parents.  

He had thought that he had never been happier when dozing between the two of them. He had been wrong, he thought later. Sitting in the lounge with Thomas reading at his side and Miranda watching the television with her feet in his lap, he thought that his happiness would continue to grow with them over the years. 


End file.
